


Fantasy [The Voulez Vous Afterhours Mix]

by Caeseria



Series: Kaboom! [The Work Your Body Till it Hurts Playlist] [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Keith (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Collars, Flustered Keith (Voltron), Gender Role Reversal, M/M, Mirror Sex, Omega Lance (Voltron), Power Dynamics, Power Play, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sexual Fantasy, Stripper Lance (Voltron), Strippers & Strip Clubs, Top Lance (Voltron), Trope Subversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23863693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeseria/pseuds/Caeseria
Summary: As a stripper, Lance has always played up the role of being submissive; the perfect omega, born to tempt any alpha to the point of madness, and he plays that role perfectly on stage.  However, as Keith and Lance grow closer, Keith suspects that Lance wants to try something new.  When Lance poses his question – Do you want to? – during his latest show at Club Altea, Keith doesn't even hesitate to say yes.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Kaboom! [The Work Your Body Till it Hurts Playlist] [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1495001
Comments: 27
Kudos: 355





	Fantasy [The Voulez Vous Afterhours Mix]

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this is my 50th piece of fic on A03! (I've written more, I just tend to delete the really old stuff and don't leave it up!)
> 
> I've had this image of Lance in my head dancing to this song for a long time, and I was going to write something else when @chipatnight suggested Lance boning Keith down in his stripper outfit and I was like, omg YES. So here we are. I have lingerie planned for the next fic, I promise, although it does pop up quickly here.
> 
> The song Lance is dancing to is Erasure's version of Voulez Vous, which I think is way better than the original and will fight anyone on :) You can listen to it [here on youtube](https://youtu.be/WblFcLctZQE) to get some idea of the beat and pace of the song as Lance dances. 
> 
> quick tw: breeding is mentioned as a throwaway comment really briefly during sex, so if that is not your thing, no problem, see you on the next fic;) I haven't tagged it because it's not a theme of this at all.

Keith pushes through the side entrance of Club Altea, hip checking the door open because he's carrying two coffees and doesn't feel like struggling to balance them. He makes sure the door's shut properly and then walks down the length of the corridor, used to the interior layout by now. It's mid-afternoon, the club is closed, and the atmosphere is so different it's almost jarring. All the house lights are on and the corridor is empty, most of the private room doors left open. He passes one and spots one of the cleaning staff, who waves when he sees Keith. Keith nods back, shrugging to show his arms are full, and keeps walking. 

Now he can hear a definite bass beat coming from the front of the club and where the stage is. The beat is peppy as hell, a wall of pop electronica, and absolutely something Keith wouldn't be caught dead listening to, but he knows before he even passes into the main club that it's got to be Lance dancing to it.

Keith rounds the end of the stage and pauses abruptly, coffee forgotten in an instant. There, in the center of the stage, wrapped provocatively around a dance pole and moving to the heavy beat, is the most beautiful boy Keith has ever had the opportunity to know. Lance, also known in the club as Blue, is Altea's headlining stripper. He's also an Omega, and it's rare to find a male one. Lance plays that aspect up well, using it to his advantage. He's confident, sassy, athletic and sexy as fuck, and when they met Keith was an instant knockout; K.O.'d in the first round. He can't say he minds; he enjoys their relationship dynamic, the way Lance likes to tease Keith, but he loves the way Lance melts in his arms when he wants Keith to take care of him.

Keith absentmindedly pushes the coffees onto the table next to him, and leans an elbow on the edge, content to watch Lance. Well, watch _Blue_ , because Lance is in full on stripper mode. He may only be practicing, but he's worked up a healthy sweat, his cheekbones flushed with exertion and his hair mussed, even when it's pulled back with clips. He looks like he does when he's under Keith, when Keith's fucked him hard, is pushing him close to orgasm, and Keith's dick stirs with interest. It takes a moment of Keith closing his eyes to get himself under control. When he opens them again, he's treated to a very nice rear view of Lance's slender waist and plush ass, and his pink booty shorts which proudly proclaim 'WORTH IT' in white lettering across the back. Keith can feel a growl trying to work his way up his throat, and he grabs at his coffee, fumbling the tab open and taking a quick drink. The liquid is just hot enough to make him wince, with the added side effect of instantly killing his boner when he burns his tongue. Good plan.

Lance is twisting his body, snakelike, around the pole, showing off his incredible flexibility, when he spots Keith. His face lights up with a beautiful smile and he shrieks Keith's name, practically vaulting off the pole and using his momentum to land on his tiptoes. Lance doesn't pause, just uses the impetus he has to launch himself into a run at Keith. "Fuck," Keith mutters, pushing his coffee to the side, and steps away from the table. Lance's grin turns shit-eating, and he raises his eyebrow before he launches himself at Keith, throwing his arms around his shoulders and his long brown legs around his waist.

"Oof," Keith says, opportunistically grabbing two handfuls of Lance's ass to keep him in place as he spins them.

Lance wriggles a little in Keith's hold, and Keith leans forward to nuzzle into Lance's neck, nosing up against the velvet choker he's wearing to cover his scent glands. Keith pushes it to the side, and carefully licks over the delicate, unmarked skin there. 

Lance makes a little choked off sound, thrusting his hips forward and tightening his thighs around Keith's waist. " _Fuck_ , Kitten." His voice trembles, breathy from exertion, and Keith breathes in that sweet, musky scent that is _Lance_ , letting it settle him. It's so much stronger since he's been working out, and it makes Keith a little dizzy with it. However, he's not a caveman, so he resolutely ignores his interested dick, and Lance slides out of his hold, onto his feet. Keith pulls him in by the waist, leaning forward to kiss Lance on the forehead. "Ew, I'm all sweaty," Lance protests, but still leans into Keith's touch.

"Hmm, I know. I like it." Keith pulls Lance closer, can now feel the heat from Lance's body, lean, hard muscles against his. He can't resist Lance when he's like this, and Keith tips his head to the side, exposing his neck for Lance to scent. He feels Lance's intake of breath rather than hears it.

"Can I?" Lance sounds a little surprised, but he's also excited. 

Alphas usually scent their omega, but here Keith is, baring his neck in submission instead. But for Keith, it's not about gender dynamics at all, it's about the fact that he trusts Lance completely, despite only knowing him for a few months. The first time Lance properly scented Keith was when they met, when Blue danced for him privately. Then, Keith had allowed it because he wanted to make sure Blue made it home okay, and to buy him precious time before his heat hit him fully. Now, he's offering this because… because there are other things he wants to offer but doesn't quite know how to. Things he's not figured out how to ask for yet without it being awkward.

Lance slides his hands gently around the back of Keith's neck and pulls him forward, nuzzling just under his ear, letting out a shaky sigh that makes him go immediately pliant. Keith tightens his arms around Lance's waist to hold him up, and he almost missed the little agreeable noise of happiness Lance makes in his ear. It's an interesting dichotomy; the heavy bass beat and fast pace of Lance's music overhead, surrounding them, and Lance, quiet and calm in his arms, a small oasis of relaxation. Keith feels the slightest brush of Lance's lips over his glands before he's pulling back, resting his hand over Keith's heart. He's still flushed, but now for different reasons. His blue eyes sparkle, and he licks his lips and gives Keith a wink.

The tension bursts like a bright bubble, and Keith laughs. "What are you dancing to?" he asks.

Lance blinks, as if he's trying to get his mind back in normal mode, and then he makes a horrified face. "Oh my god, it's a surprise!" he shouts, and leans over the table next to them to grab at the remote for the sound system, cancelling out the music before it can start over again. 

Keith has enough time to catch the end of the lyrics before they break off abruptly, something about _'Voulez vous'_. Keith doesn't speak French but he's heard enough shitty pickup lines in bars to know it translates as _do you want to_? Well, color Keith interested now… 

"What's the surprise for?" he asks, because he likes getting Lance flustered as much as Lance (and Blue) likes doing it to him.

"Um, nothing. No reason." 

Lance is blushing hard now, and Keith can't help the shit-eating grin he's wearing. "Oh?" Keith leans in, tugging Lance into his arms. "What are you up to, love?"

"N-nothing," Lance stammers, glancing over toward the stage and then back at Keith. He taps Keith on the chest and then jabs him harder with a finger, seeming to regain his a little of his sassy attitude. "It's something I'm working on for you and when it's ready I'll let you see it."

"Are you going to perform it?" Keith is actually curious; he admires Lance not just for his grace and flexibility, his athleticism, but also for his ability to completely own the crowd – to inflame everyone to such a frenzied degree they have to put a chain link barrier between him and the rabid crowd. Some would argue it's his omega scent doing the hard work for him, but Keith knows it's more than that. Nothing is sexier than true confidence in yourself, and this beautiful boy has it in spades.

Lance nods. "I am, yes. Maybe next week in the Revue. We're doing an 80s themed night. Lots of sparkles and neon and stuff."

"An _80s Night_? Jesus," Keith says, rubbing his hand over his face. 

Lance leans in closer, tipping his weight forward so Keith has no option other than to hold him tighter so he doesn't lose balance. "Please? I want you to come," Lance coos, looking up at Keith from under the fan of his eyelashes.

Well, _fuck_. Judging by the mischievous sparkle in Lance's eyes, that statement is at least a double entendre. Keith knows he's going to go, he wouldn't miss it for the world, because he's hoping Lance is going to use this song to ask Keith for what he wants finally. He grins. "Of course I'm gonna come," Keith replies, arching an eyebrow to acknowledge the word-play.

Lance leans in for a quick kiss, all business now he's got his way. "Perfect. I knew you wouldn't let me down. Now gimme my coffee before it gets cold. I have some more practicing to do."

* * *

Shiro had belly laughed when Keith mentioned that he was going to Altea for the 80s theme night. Then he'd pulled a twenty out, slapped it on the table between them and bet Keith that someone would be on stage in white lingerie and heels dancing to 'Like a Virgin' within the first ten minutes of his arrival. Keith had pursed his lips and refused to take the bet, adding a _fuck you_ just to round out the conversation.

Now, walking into Altea, he's doubly glad he didn't take that bet. If there's one thing he never wants to see again it's the bartender, Coran, in neon pink leggings and a headband. Actually, make that the entire bar staff. Coran recognizes him immediately, throwing him a grin and a raised eyebrow, like he knows exactly what's coming later on. He pours Keith one of those fancy blue drinks with the sparkles in it, and points him toward a circular booth on the first raised dais. Keith does a double take; that's a prime spot to view the stage, and puts the seated guests at what is basically eye level with the performers. Still, Coran isn't taking no for an answer, and Keith can already feel a spark of excitement in his belly, his interest peaking because he's still not sure what Lance has planned for his final routine of the night. He sits down, sliding his drink across the table as he slips into the curved booth. He makes it to the rear of the booth and settles back, just a little breathless. Because _wow_ , he really should have thought his whole plan through a little more carefully. 

See, Keith wants Lance – or Blue – (he'll take whichever version is available, honestly), to dick him down nice and hard. The problem is he's just not found a way to broach the subject between them yet. He thinks Lance also wants it, but maybe is cautious about asking because of his omega dynamic. However, recently, Lance has been remarkably coy, enough for Keith to start paying attention to his actions when they are together. There's the way Lance pulls him close when they're out, a hand settling against Keith's lower back, brushing against his ass. Or when they're snuggled up on the couch, watching a movie, Lance's hands will wander, slipping his hand into Keith's back pocket, or stroking over his hips and then his ass. Last week Keith had been in the kitchen, making coffee, when Lance had come up behind him, sliding his hands over Keith's hips and pulling him back into the cradle of Lance's. He'd rocked forward, hips rolling like a wave and Keith could feel the shape of him, heavy and thick, through his sweatpants. Lance had let out a breathless laugh and nuzzled into the nape of Keith's neck, grazing his teeth across the sensitive skin in parody of what an alpha would do if he was going to breed his omega. Keith's body had reacted with a shiver of excitement. He'd sucked in a breath, hands tightening over Lance's before Lance had pulled away, but it was enough for both of them to understand the game they're playing. 

It's clear Lance is being… subtly suggestive, feeling Keith out without asking outright. Regardless, Keith's taken a gamble and he's spent the last week, breathless with tight anticipation at the thought, prepping himself just in case Lance is down for it. Fingering himself open every night, patiently loosening himself up and getting used to the feeling of being filled. It's been a long time since Keith's been fucked; he'd tried it a couple of times in college but hasn't since. And, now that Keith's body is starting to get used to it, he craves the shape of Lance inside him. Lance has a big, pretty dick, almost the same size as Keith, and it makes his mouth water at the thought of getting that in him.

Which brings him back to the plan at hand. Perfectly executed; he's wearing a nice glass butt plug, nestled inside him, just big enough to keep him on edge but not make him uncomfortable. He's enjoying the way it fills him, the way it shifts inside him. The ride over to the club on his hover bike had been… interesting. Keith hasn't tuned the vibration out at top gear on purpose because he likes the way the bike performs, but he obviously hadn't ever consider wearing a butt plug while riding it. Damn, Keith had been on edge when he pulled into the parking lot, and he's only just calming down now – until the weight of it had shifted when he slid into the booth. For a moment, Keith feels like his breath has been pulled from his body, his body lighting up with pleasure when the plug brushes his prostate. _Jesus Christ_.

Fortunately for Keith, that's when the house lights go down for good and the show starts, and it gives him time to get himself back under control. He orders a second drink during the third (or is it fourth?) routine, watching the dancers take the stage and yep – Keith glances at his phone and takes a timestamp snapshot – Shiro was out by fourteen minutes with his estimation of _Like a Virgin_. Ha, Keith's up twenty bucks now but that doesn't stop him wincing at the saccharine sweet pop music. He takes his second drink from the floating serving tray hovering to his side and then he pays, sending the tray off with a wave of his hand to dismiss it.

There's a couple more routines with different dancers, some actually stripping, although this evening is more a Revue and cabaret than a regular night. Keith's seen enough neon athletic gear and big hair in the last hour to last him a lifetime, although he can appreciate the last male dancer that takes the pole, wearing a tight shirt which proclaims, 'RELAX!' in black letters across the front.

The club is pretty much packed at this point, and the house lights dip in warning again signalling the last part of the show. There's a rumble beneath the stage as the chain link fence rises slowly toward the ceiling, sealing off the stage from the audience with an impenetrable barrier. Keith knows Lance isn't in pre-heat, but it's part of his brand now, the patrons expect to see it. If Keith's being honest with himself, it also lights up something aggressive and primal inside him, to see an omega ( _his_ omega) displaying himself for a crowd of fuck-hungry alpha and beta, eager to get their hands on him if they could only reach him.

And now, as the lights go down for the last time and plunge the room into darkness, Keith can feel his heartbeat quickening in anticipation, knowing that this is just for him, that Lance has worked tirelessly to give him this gift.

The first bars of the music are frantic; a sudden burst of aggressive electronica across the darkened stage. It makes the corners of the room seem darker, a little more dangerous despite the blue neon glow. When the lights come back up, they come back in a burst of strobe light to match the beat, and there, standing by the single pole in the middle of the stage is Blue, one arm raised, feet planted wide, his hips ticking forward in time to the music. It takes only seconds for the crowd directly in front of him to respond with catcalls and suggestive comments. Blue smirks, and Keith is reminded just how gone for this boy he truly is.

The lighting seems to switch up again, changing from strobing white to a darker blue as they fade down, and that's when Keith notices exactly how much care Lance has put into what he's wearing. He's wearing a pair of dark blue shorts that barely cover his ass cheeks, his signature leather collar and a small sapphire that dangles hypnotically from his belly piercing. Glitter is smeared across his body, up his outer thighs and flank, across his collarbones, shoulders and arms, his cheekbones; a darkened shift of blue and green that seems to move with him, glistening in the darkness like a second skin. In the strobing lights, he looks like a siren, a creature of the deep sea, pretty, dark, deadly.

And then he opens his eyes, and Keith's breath stops in his throat. Blue is – he's wearing contacts of some kind that reflect the light, and they seem to glow an ethereal blue, and now he looks not just dangerously sensual, but inhuman, and Keith _likes_ it, holy fuck. He wants this boy to devour him, any way he can get it.

_People everywhere  
A sense of expectation hanging in the air  
Giving out a spark  
Across the room your eyes are glowing in the dark_

Blue seems to be looking for something even as he moves toward the front of the stage, and when he finds Keith at the booth, exactly where he's supposed to be, he offers him a wink, the contacts making his eyes flash for a quick moment.

Blue struts his way along the edge of the stage, singing along to the music, every movement aggressive and cocky, fingers trailing against the chain link, moving away when one of the audience tries to grab for him. The music never slows from that frantic electronic pacing, and neither does Blue's body. The glitter makes him look like his skin is alive with color, makes the parts that are glitter-free like his abs and chest, his hard nipples, his inner thighs, look vulnerable, a sensual feast for wandering fingertips and mouths. It makes Keith grit his teeth, and he's pretty sure he's not the only person in the crowd sporting a semi at this point. Keith doesn't even think he can blame the plug that's inside him for this one, either. He moves in his seat a little, feeling the plug shift, and it sends a frisson of pleasure through him, warming his cheeks with arousal.

Deeming the crowd sufficiently riled up, Blue makes his way back to the pole, mounting it deceptively easily, the muscles in his biceps and core supporting him effortlessly as he spins. He twists, legs spreading, before he flips to the side and curls like a snake around the pole. He's fast enough that it's simply a sensual blur, a tease of long brown legs and soft skin, pert ass barely contained in the shorts he's wearing. He drops into a split and then he's back up the pole, upside down, the frenzied beat only fueling his movements. The lights strobe again and it's like watching snapshots of frozen time, one second to the next, and Keith knows his mouth is parted, partly in lust and partly in incredulous disbelief at what he's seeing, holy shit.

_And here we go again, we know the start, we know the end  
Masters of the scene  
We've done it all before and now we're back to get some more_

_  
_Blue drops back to his feet and bends over, arching his spine, pushing his ass out, teasing the crowd with the promise of it, of getting between his thighs, fucking him good. He sells the image, breath heaving in his chest, skin shining with glittered sweat, pushing up on to his tiptoes as he swings around the pole again. Then he's up, stalking toward the crowd, glowing eyes fixed firmly on Keith. The rest of the crowd fades into the background, until it's only Keith, Blue, and the pounding music. Blue's almost at the chain link fence, almost touching it, and he rolls his body, stomach muscles rippling, and he raises a hand, smoothing it through his hair. He never takes his eyes off Keith, even as he exposes his collared neck, bite-free and unblemished, and fuck, in that second Keith wants nothing more than to mark Lance as his, irrevocably and forever.

Blue's fingertips stroke teasingly down his stomach, toward the waistband of his shorts. He's smirking again, enjoying himself, and as Keith follows the trail of his fingers below the fabric, it's clear that Blue's getting off on the attention, the surge of frenzied energy directed at him from the crowd – and Keith. Blue's half-hard, and as he runs his fingers over his cock, brazen and shameless in taking his pleasure. Keith's mouth goes dry, a desperate swoop of desire lighting his belly with a vicious craving, a need to get his hands on this boy as soon as possible.

_Voulez-vous (ah-ha)  
Take it now or leave it (ah-ha)  
Now is all we get (ah-ha)  
Nothing promised, no regrets_

And then there it is; Blue's – no, Lance's - question. _Do you want to?_ Blue's mouthing the lyrics even as he's dancing, moving across the stage, but his gaze is always to the crowd, toward Keith. He strokes his hands across his chest, down his stomach, and then flips around, sticking his ass out and rolling his body, peeling down those shorts until they're cupping the bottom of his ass, pushing his pert cheeks up and framing it, like a fucking meal. Nestled between his cheeks is a hint of dark blue lace, there one moment and gone the next when Blue rolls back up in a single sensuous grind and pulls up the shorts. It's not subtle; at least to Keith, but then he's not after subtlety if he's gonna be honest with himself. Keith's answer was always going to be yes, and he really, _really_ wants to get that dick in his ass, the sooner the better.

_Voulez-vous (ah-ha)_   
_Ain't no big decision (ah-ha)_   
_You know what to do (ah-ha)_

Lance struts back along the stage, rattling the chain link for good measure, laughing at something one of the patrons against the fence must have said. As the final chorus winds down, Blue strokes himself through the shorts, a tease for both himself and the crowd. He rolls his hips, works it hard, never stopping, always moving, keeping that feverish, manic energy pumping, creating a feedback loop between himself, the crowd, and the music.

When he's back in the middle of the stage, one hand on his hip, he gives the crowd a final, breathy grin of amusement and then looks straight at Keith.

_La question c'est voulez-vous_ he mouths, and then the music stops abruptly and the room is plunged into sudden darkness. The lack of sound is strangely deafening, a little disorientating to the senses. The strip lighting on the floor comes back on, and the crowd starts to dissipate, some of them heading for the coat check, some the bar as the house music starts up in the background.

And Keith? He's throwing back the rest of his drink and heading toward the back hallway, making a beeline directly for where he knows Blue's dressing room is. The bouncer recognizes him, gives him a nod and waves him past the ropes. 

Keith can feel a manic, tight energy pounding in his chest. It might be his heart, it might be all the blood in his thinking brain rushing straight to his dick; he really isn't sure. All he knows that he needs to see Blue now, needs to get his hands on his skin. He needs to have Blue's hands on him, and then maybe this itch under his skin will fade.

He knocks on Blue's door, waits as he unlocks it. Lance's eyes light up when he sees it's Keith, and he pulls him into the room. Lance hasn't put the overhead lights on yet, so the room is lit in a soft, suggestive glow, the lights around the mirror in front of the makeup table adding to the effect. Lance is still dressed in his dance outfit, and Keith can't take his eyes off him – or his hands. 

Lance giggles breathlessly, happy to be pulled into Keith's arms. He tips his head to the side, allowing Keith to scent him. His scent is so much stronger after being on stage and it makes Keith dizzy with want. Keith's hands slide over Lance's hips, smearing glitter, but he doesn't care. He reaches up, knuckles brushing against Lance's jaw fondly. It's then he notices he's taken out his contacts, but in a way he can read Lance easier now, can gauge his reaction to Keith's next words.

"The answer's yes, I want you to fuck me."

"Keith? I – " Lance's words stutter out and his eyes go wide, like he can't quite believe what he heard. "Are you serious? How did you know I was going to a-"

"You're not _that_ subtle," Keith mutters, sliding his hand to the back of Lance's neck, pulling him forward into a exploratory kiss. Fuck, he loves kissing Lance, loves the way he melts into Keith's arms with a moan, opening up and letting Keith take control for the moment. When they pull apart, Lance looks a little dazed and he licks his lips. 

"So, I can fuck you later when we get home?" he asks breathlessly.

Keith smirks and leans into Lance, taking hold of his wrist. He slides Lance's hand over his hip, the swell of his ass, guiding his movements until Lance's fingers are stroking over the center seam of his jeans. Keith leans in until he can whisper in Lance's ear, "I want you to fuck me now." He presses Lance's hand down, until Lance takes the hint, fingers stroking over the tight denim. He can feel Lance shudder and his breath hitch when Keith rolls his hips, pushing his ass into Lance's hand. And that's when Lance finally clues in.

"Oh my fucking god, Kitten," Lance breathes out against Keith's neck. "Are you wearing a plug for me?" He presses his fingers down, gently at first to gauge Keith's reaction, and then a little harder when Keith moans, rocking backward as the plug shifts inside him, grazing ohsoclose to his prostate.

The next time Keith rocks his hips forward he can feel how hard Lance is, thick and heavy, and fuck, Keith's wants that inside him. Lance pushes him backward, the movement rushed, hands gripping Keith's hips until he's flush against the table. It's also the perfect height to hit where the base of the plug is if he rocks backward, and he can't help the breathless noise that slips out of his throat when he sees how Lance is looking at him; wild and on edge. The tension in the room winds tight, even as Keith's hands curl over the edge of the table, and then Lance is on him with a soft growl, licking into his mouth, demanding his attention. His fingers are in Keith's hair, tugging, and Keith bares his throat, lets himself be vulnerable just this once. That seems to only fire Lance up more, and he slips a thigh between Keith's legs, hand sliding up Keith's sides and pulling his shirt over his head. 

Skin on skin contact; this is what Keith wants. Lance is sucking a bruise into Keith's neck, teeth grazing the skin, even as his hands are working at Keith's belt, undoing the buckle. It clinks as Lance gets it undone, pulling the zipper of his jeans down, and then he's got access; palms pressing across Keith's ass firmly, gripping at him, kneading the flesh. Keith's feels a little drunk, he's got a buzz under his skin he needs to satisfy. "Lance, c'mon, fuck me," he says. "I've been waiting weeks for this; I can't wait any longer." 

He's got his hands on Lance's shorts, fingertips dipping below and under his waistband, like he can persuade Lance that way. Lance flips Keith around, pushing his jeans and underwear over his ass, half way down this thighs.

"Is this what you want, Keith?" Keith feels the firm press of Lance's hand to the middle of his back, pressing him forward over the table and, when he looks in the mirror, he's surprised to see an almost reverent look pass across Lance's face as he strokes his palm down Keith's spine, over his ass. Lance's eyes meet Keith's in the mirror and Lance smirks, suddenly confident and sure. He leans over Keith's back, breath ghosting over Keith's ear. He never takes his eyes off Keith's as his hand slides between them, fingers gliding over the base of the plug, pushing it in firmly. Keith lets out a shaky moan, eyes fluttering shut for a moment and when Lance grasps the base of it and tugs, Keith has to bite his lip to stop from releasing the noise that climbs his throat, raw and unguarded.

"God, Lance, please," Keith bites out, hands curling into fists.

"Hmm," Lance murmurs in his ear, nibbling at the cartilage. "Feeling impatient?"

Keith is not about to stop to explain that he mistakenly managed to edge his stupid ass for most of the bike ride over, but the expression on his face must be enough of a clue to how desperate he is, because Lance straightens back up and gives the plug a firmer pull. Keith relaxes, sensing he's going to get what he wants and pushes out. The plug resists at first, and Lance twists it, grinning when Keith lets out another whine, panting. Another tug and it comes free and Keith feels suddenly empty and loose, and he contracts his muscles, body trying to grasp at something that's not there.

Lance is watching with a sharp, excited expression, and as soon as he puts the plug to the side, he's running exploratory fingers along the crease of Keith's ass, over his hole that's slick with lube. "Damn, Kitten," he breathes out, "Your body's begging for it. That's a big plug."

"You got a big dick," Keith sasses, raising an eyebrow. 

Lance's eyes flick up the Keith's quickly in the mirror, and Keith bows his back, sticking his ass out. Lance dips the tip of his finger just inside Keith's hole, tugging at the rim. "Nice and loose," Lance says, pushing a little deeper until he's knuckle deep. Keith wriggles impatiently, but then Lance has a hand between Keith's shoulder blades, pushing him down firmly. "Be a good boy for me and stay down," Lance smirks. 

Keith growls; it's almost his alpha growl, but that doesn't appear to intimidate Lance right now – rather it just makes him cockier because he can see how much he's affecting Keith. Lance finally gives Keith what he wants; two fingers to the second knuckle, and Lance's hips tick forward, his hard cock sliding between Keith's cheeks like a promise. Keith is so turned on he can't think properly; Lance's hand pressing him down, holding him in place, toying with his hole as he fingers him. Big dick pressed against him.

And then Lance has got another slick finger pressing into him, and he's watching Keith's reaction in the mirror even as his eyes flick down to watch his fingers sinking in. Lance's beautiful face is flushed as he works Keith open that final bit, twisting gently inside him to brush his prostate, making Keith let out a shuddering, pleasured breath. "Can I –" Lance asks, slowly pulling his fingers free.

"Fuck, yes," Keith says. "Gimme that dick, sweetheart."

Lance pushes his shorts down, pulling out his hard cock, and Keith catches another flash of those lace panties he's curious about. That's gonna have to wait for later though, he thinks, because Lance is fisting his pretty cock, slicking himself with lube and then stepping forward between Keith's legs with intent, the fat head of his cock nudging at Keith's slick hole.

Keith pops his ass out and up, arching his spine, just in case Lance fails to take the hint. Lance is a smart boy though and doesn't tease him further, maybe sensing how much Keith needs this. Keith can feel the way Lance's fingers are wrapped around himself, guiding his cock as he nudging forward carefully with his hips. Keith feels pressure and then Lance's cock is pressing in, slow and gentle. Keith drops his head to the table, hands fisting as his eyes close, because it's overwhelming, perfect, just what he wants.

"Keith? Talk to me babe," Lance says softly. 

Keith forces his eyes open, meets Lance's in the mirror. "I'm good," he manages to find the words for. "Don't stop."

Lance nods, slides forward another inch, moving both his hands to Keith's hips to steady him. "Fuck." Lance's voice is reverential as he continues to slide in in one long, perfect movement. "Fuck, Kitten, you feel so good. You know, being an omega, I was meant to take your cock, I was born for it, but watching your body slowly relax enough to take mine… damn, you have no idea how fucking hot that gets me." He strokes his palm over the swell of Keith's butt cheek. Keith can feel it when Lance's hips meet his ass at last and Keith shivers with anticipation, his body tightening and then relaxing as he adjusts. Lance's hands move up to his waist and he rocks forward a little experimentally, and then he leans over Keith's back, pushing his hair to the side and placing a kiss at the nape of Keith's neck. "You ready?" he asks. 

Keith nods; doesn't think he has the ability right now to do much more. Lance rolls his hips back and presses forward, fingers tightening at Keith's waist, taking the first few thrusts slowly so Keith gets used to it. Lance quickly becomes more confident, standing upright and going deeper in long, rolling movements that make Keith's brain short circuit in pleasure. He pushes to his elbows, letting his head hang, and lets Lance set the pace, bouncing Keith onto his cock, his movements becoming more staccato as he chases his own pleasure. Keith watches Lance in the mirror: cheeks flushed and hair mussed, brown skin shining in places with glitter that moves in an ever-changing sea of blue-green. He watches as his abs contract as he fucks into Keith, hips jerking, how he bites his lip and his eyes become heavy-lidded as he loses himself to the rhythm.

Keith can't do anything but lay there, bent over at Lance's mercy and take it, and he loves it. Loves it as much as he knew he would. Loves the way Lance's cock is like a thick brand, carving a space inside him over and over again, overwhelming him with building pleasure. Lance is starting to put some effort behind his strokes now, changing the rhythm until it's shallow, each thrust a sharp snap of his hips, and that's when Keith really loses it. He gives all semblance of control to Lance with a bitten-off moan that quickly turns into a whimper, and lance grips his waist tighter and fucks into Keith until he can't think straight. Lance pushes him back down onto the desk, chest pressed to the surface, and keeps him there, hand at his nape, and fucks him like Keith is his omega and Lance is the alpha. Lance doesn't hold back, maybe sensing what Keith really wants and needs. Keith watches him in the mirror, watching the way his muscles of his abs and biceps flex, watching the way each thrust jostles Keith forward on the table. Something falls to the floor and shatters, but Lance keeps fucking him, eyes sharp beneath that heavy-lidded gaze, thrusts quickening. 

"You gonna come for me, Kitten?" Lance says breathlessly. "Want me to jack you off?"

Keith can't – he shifts and Lance pushes him back down, holding him in place. His orgasm is right there, he's not gonna need a hand on him he realizes. He whines, and Lance keeps him firmly in place, fingers curling into his waist and pulling him onto his fat cock, hard and fast. Keith may not be made to be fucked like an omega, but his body wants it. He's overwhelmed; unable to react to anything except to lay there and take it, and he's never wanted something so badly. Lance is really putting his all into it now; leaning back and fucking Keith hard and fast, thick cock driving into him until all can think about is the tight, aching pleasure twisting in his belly and behind his balls.

"Fuck, _fuck_ ," Lance is chanting. Keith can feel how hard Lance is, how long he is inside him. Keith squeezes down, his body tightening with impending orgasm. It won't take much to - 

"Keith, god, gonna breed you," Lance says in a rush. "Gonna fuck you until you're full of my come, you want that?"

Lance's words are filthy and obscene, and _fuck_ does it do it for Keith. His words detonate something dark in Keith's core, a sharp rush of pleasure he can't control, that he doesn't want to. His eyes squeeze shut, his own blunt nails digging into his palms, stinging with fresh, new pain. His body seizes around Lance's cock, and Keith comes with a ragged, loud cry he can't muffle. He can't stop himself; it's so overwhelming. Lance doesn't slow down, fucks him through his orgasm. He clamps a hand over Keith's mouth, presses him down to the table with his body, hips jackrabbiting until he finally comes with a quiet groan of his own. He pushes in as far as he can, grinding into Keith's ass, and Keith jerks, comes again weakly as Lance brushes against his prostate. 

"Oh my god, oh my god," Lance is babbling, still draped over his back. He takes his hand from Keith's mouth, and leans up on his elbows to take his weight off Keith. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

Keith can't even form words he's so blissed out. He just about manages to keep his eyes open, watching Lance curiously until he realizes that Lance is about to panic, and he doesn't think he wants Lance doing that with his dick still inside him. He reaches behind him and snags Lance by the wrist. "I'm fine," he slurs around panting breaths. "G'mme a sec."

"Okay, okay." Lance lets out a calming, slow breath and pushes himself upright and pushes his hair off his face. "Gonna pull out, 'kay?"

Keith nods, relaxes and then lets Lance pull his softening cock out slowly, carefully. Keith feels a rush of Lance's come as he pulls out, and then Lance is wiping him down with a wet wipe, cleaning him up. After a few moments, Keith stands up slowly, stretching out his aching body and pulling his jeans back up. He's gonna have bruises on his hips from the table, maybe on his waist from Lance's fingers. He's not complaining though. "I think I'm a little high on endorphins," Keith says helpfully.

Lance pauses in cleaning himself up to laugh incredulously. "Oh my god, Kitten, are you really okay?" he asks. He pulls his shorts back into place and steps closer, reaching up to run his knuckles fondly over Keith's jaw line.

Keith leans into Lance's touch, wrapping his arms around Lance's waist. "I think I’m fuck-drunk," he states carefully.

Lance giggles. "Hmm, it sounds like it. Glad I could make you forget your own name."

"I know my own name," Keith says, nuzzling into Lance's neck, kissing just below his collar. "There's something else I know as well," he says.

"Oh?" Lance is grinning.

"That you are really fucking hot when you are on stage. And when you are off it, too." Yep, Keith thinks, he's definitely high on endorphins. He's having problems _not_ running off at the mouth. "And one other thing."

Lance leans in to kiss Keith, their movements languid and sated. God, Keith could spend hours kissing this boy, he thinks. 

"And what's this other thing you know?" Lance prompts, giving Keith a wink as he pulls away.

Now it's Keith's turn to smirk as he tugs at Lance to pull him back into the circle of his arms. He presses his chest to Lance's back, grinding his hips forward. "I know I'm gonna take you home and fuck you stupid," he breaths into the shell of Lance's ear, grinning when Lance lets out a little shudder of pleasure. "Maybe fuck you while I'm still slick with your come, how does that sound?"

"Holy fuck, Keith, you know how to get a boy wet really fast." Lance's voice sounds broken, like he's overwhelmed at the idea. 

"Only one boy," Keith corrects. He smacks Lance on his pert ass. "Get moving."

"I need to shower," Lance adds.

Keith shakes his head. "Nope. I wanna fuck you like this, all pretty for me."

"I'm sweaty." Lance narrows his eyes. "But… you don't care, do you?"

Keith smirks, licks his lips. "Nope. I've been thinking about it since you came on stage like that. Please, indulge me?"

Lance huffs and rolls his eyes, but he's not serious. He pretends to consider it, one hand on his hip as he stands there. Then he says, "Fine, just for you. Shall I bring my contacts, as well since you seem to want the whole experience?"

Keith's brain does a bit of another short circuit.

"I'll take that as a yes," Lance says with another laugh. "Let me get my jacket."

**Author's Note:**

> RIP Keith's glass plug; it's what rolled off the table ;)


End file.
